


Dream Made Flesh

by aeronwyn



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeronwyn/pseuds/aeronwyn
Summary: When Vanyel and Stefen finally square with each other in "Magic's Price," we get a tasteful fade to black. Here's what we might call the extended edition of that scene, complete with emotional realizations and a long-awaited, explosive release of sexual tension.





	Dream Made Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> All characters, settings, &c. belong to Mercedes Lackey.
> 
> As always, comments welcome!

“I never guessed.” Vanyel’s heart was almost breaking as he watched Stefen’s eyes brim with tears beneath their long lashes. Hardly daring to breathe, he ran his fingers across Stef’s cheek. They came away wet and Vanyel felt his own eyes sting with tears. They’d brushed hands before, clasped arms, given a few playful punches and hair ruffles, but this small gesture felt so much more intimate. Van marveled at it, and at the soft skin and how it disappeared beneath sparse two-day stubble. _How long has it been since I touched another person like this? How can one little touch be so_ — Vanyel’s introspection came to a shuddering halt as Stef’s eyes met his. The walls that Vanyel had spent so many years building shattered as Stef laid his hand over Vanyel’s and— _Oh,_ _Havens_ —smiled with the brilliance of a thousand stars.

 

The feeble protests still echoing in Vanyel’s mind faded with every stride he took towards Stef—towards the bed. He had enough presence of mind to gently close his link with ‘Fandes. _Just us._

 

As Stefen’s legs hit the side of the bed, he pulled Vanyel in by the front of his tunic. Vanyel found his arms wrapping around the lean bard, hands coming up to caress his back. His gaze slid from Stef’s parted lips to his still-glistening eyes, and back again, taking in the slightly sweet smell of his breath. They were both waiting, Vanyel realized. But for what, he wasn’t certain. He wet his lips to speak.

 

“Don’t you want…” He was having a hard time getting the words out. _Come on, this is no time to be shy._ Vanyel swallowed and tried again. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

 

“Of course I do,” Stef replied, his voice a little hoarse from crying, “but it’s your move.”

 

_It’s your move._ The phrase was quite familiar to Vanyel. He often said with a smile when Stef asked why Vanyel hadn’t yet taken his turn in Hounds and Hinds; Stef was forever getting distracted during their games. _Why would he say that now?_ Vanyel’s brow furrowed as the cogs slowly turned. Stef had been trying to seduce him for months— Vanyel had been well aware of it, and had resisted the temptation to flirt (mostly). But here, too, _Stef_ was the one who had worked up the courage to raise this sensitive matter, who had given Vanyel the power to hurt him terribly. _Stef_ had led them towards the bed, _Stef_ had pulled him close… _I’m such a half-wit. He’s done all the work so far in this… whatever this is. It’s_ my _turn to risk it— to show him what I want, how I feel._ Gods _. Get it together, Vanyel._ The realization must have shown in his face, because Stef leaned forward another inch, his whole body trembling. He looked near to breaking, and Vanyel couldn’t bear the prospect of that. He brought one hand up to cradle Stef’s cheek—his own fingers were shaking a little, too—and took a deep breath.

 

When he finally pressed his lips to Stefen’s, it wasn’t the feather-light brush he intended—it was like the crash of a tidal wave. Stefen came alive in Vaneyl’s hands, his body moving as if of its own accord. For an instant, Vanyel wanted to cry out, to _weep_ , even. This wasn’t just a kiss: it was a revelation. _Oh gods, how I’ve wanted this. How have I even_ breathed _these last few months without this? Without him?_ Vanyel could feel—or perhaps Feel—the desperation and profound delight rolling off Stefen in waves. It was several seconds before Vanyel noticed that his cheeks were wet—whether from his own tears or from Stefen’s, he didn’t know. Over the years he had cried from shock, exhaustion, sadness, and relief. This was something like a mix of all four, and more besides—and all of it was passing between their lips in a few breathless, cathartic moments. An appreciative sigh from Stef pulled him out of his own head and back into the moment. Van set his sights on more of those sighs.

 

He quickly discovered that Stef was an excellent kisser. His lips were warm and pliant, his tongue delightfully evasive. Stef’s hands had released their vice grip on his tunic and were tugging at the laces. That almost made Van smile; _he moves fast, all right. Two can play at that._

 

He slipped his hands beneath the hem of Stef’s shirt and caressed his waist, slowly hiking up the fabric. The next time they paused for breath, Van pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. Before he could bring his mouth back down, however, Stef had done the same with Van’s tunic. The expanse of skin suddenly pressing against his own had Van gasping for breath. Every point of contact was like a little bolt of Mage-lightning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt anything like it and, judging by Stefen’s ragged breathing, neither could he. Van was pretty certain he liked it, though— if his Empathy didn’t provide proof enough, the hard something pressing into his thigh certainly did. It seemed cruel to leave him trapped within those breeches, so Van let his hands drift downward. They paused to give Stef's nipples a few experimental pinches. Stef’s back arched as he let out another one of those sighs, and Vanyel felt himself grow a little harder. Stef could probably feel it, too, and the thought made him dizzy. While his fingers struggled with Stef’s breeches, his lips found their way across his cheek, along his jaw, and down his neck, all the way to the collarbones. He’d never really noticed them before, but in the candlelight their subtle shadows nearly took his breath away. Vanyel kissed them, too. When he finally had the lacings loose enough, he pulled back and looked into his new lover’s eyes.

 

“May I?” He asked, an arch smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Stef wet his lips with deliberate slowness, a sight that sent shivers down Vanyel’s spine.

 

“Please do.” Stefen tried to keep his voice steady, but Vanyel heard the subtle quavering. It was more than a little gratifying.

 

He pressed his lips to Stefen’s once more as he tugged the breeches and underclothes down. Stef let him strip the layers away, basking in his attentions like a cat in sunshine. When Stef finally stepped out of the breeches and kicked them away, Van was _quite_ pleased with what he saw. He didn’t try to hide it, instead letting his projective Empathy flash it towards Stef as he slid down his body and took the length in his hands. The swollen head matched the deep, rosy shade of Stef’s lips. Van’s own cock twitched just looking at him. Hardly breathing, Stef brought trembling hands down to rest on his shoulders. Those hands tightened as Van nuzzled the auburn curls around the base of his cock and laid a few sloppy kisses on him, slowly working his way up to the head. By the time he reached it, the whole length was slick with saliva. He let one hand caress Stefen’s inner thighs and wrapped the other around him, feeling the velvety skin slip beneath his fingers. When his mouth joined in, he heard not a sigh but a full-on _moan_. The sighs had turned him on. _This_ set his blood on fire.

 

Stef didn’t let him keep it up for long, and Vanyel could sense why—he was already building towards a climax. Even as Stef gave his shoulders a light push away, Van let him go with a soft popping sound. He knew that Stefen loved to be teased in general— _I bet he'd like that now, too_.

 

“Oh no, I don’t want this to be over already,” Van said, his words ghosting along Stefen’s length. “We haven’t even gotten on to the bed yet.” Stefen let out a breathy laugh at that, and pulled him to his feet. He looped his arms around Van’s neck.

 

“Then take me to bed, lover.” Van had no chance to reply before Stef leaned in for another kiss.

 

Van slid his hands down and lifted him with one hand under each thigh. Part of him wanted—and had wanted for quite some time, he realized— to throw Stef onto the bed and fuck him to the point of brutal exhaustion without another moment’s delay. He knew Stef would enjoy it, too. But there would be plenty of time to indulge his baser lusts later. For now, he only wanted to express what was finally bubbling up after months of denial: reverence, adoration, joy— _love._ That was what filled Vanyel’s consciousness as he lay down on the bed, pulling Stef down on top of him. That was what radiated from him as he kissed the wonderful man again and again, running his hands up and down the smooth skin of his back, carding his fingers through his red locks. Stef felt it all, Vanyel was sure of it. His slender form melted into Van’s, warm and sweet with kisses. The sighs that Vanyel had already come to cherish were frequent.

 

It felt like an act of worship when he took Stef’s cock in his hand. He received the blessing of a gasp, followed by a hungry kiss. By this point, Van was straining against the material of his breeches. Of course, with how closely they were pressed together, straining against his breeches meant straining against Stef’s leg, too.

 

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” Stef asked with the hazy smile of one utterly immersed in physical pleasures. Van’s hand stilled.

 

“Well— You’ve waited long enough for me to…. get my head on straight—I thought I should…” Van blinked hard. It wasn’t easy to form complete sentences with a gorgeous man on top of him. “I should attend to you first, and make myself wait a while. It’s only fair, after all the waiting you’ve done.” Stef gave an exasperated sigh.

 

“Did it not occur to you that I’ve spent the last several months daydreaming about feeling you up?” Stef said, looking down at him with earnest longing spread clearly across his face. “I haven’t just been waiting for _you_ to touch _me_. _I want you, Van._ ” Vanyel felt a pulse of fierce desire ripple through his body as Stef locked eyes with him and activated his Bardic Gift for just a moment.

 

_Still a half-wit. How did I miss that?_

 

“Oh,” was all Vanyel could manage.

 

“What do you want from me?” Stef was murmuring in his dumbfounded lover’s ear. His breath was warm, as was his cheek, pressed against Vanyel’s. “Tell me.”

 

_Oh, so_ that’s _how it is._

 

“Well, I did enjoy having you in my mouth, but these breeches are rather… tight and distracting. Help me take them off?”

 

They were gone in seconds. Stef crouched over him on all fours, gazing down at Vanyel’s newly liberated cock, awaiting his next instructions. Vanyel couldn’t hold back a smirk.

 

“Well, you say you’re experienced. Prove it.” Vanyel felt a thrill just saying the words aloud. Being bold was… different. Intoxicating. “I’ve had dreams like this,” he found himself confessing as Stef licked his lips again and leaned down, “where you—” he lost track of his thoughts as Stef’s hand wrapped around him and began moving in time with his lips. Vanyel propped himself up on his elbows and watched the bard’s head bob up and down with agonizing slowness. His ears were picking up the wet sounds of Stefen’s lips and tongue, but only barely—the roar of his own blood was almost deafening. When Stef brought his other hand up to massage Vanyel’s balls, he fell back against the mattress and clutched at the sheets. He allowed himself a few seconds’ reveling until— _No, it’s too soon._

 

“Easy, easy Stef.” Vanyel struggled back up on to his elbows. “Not yet. I...”

 

Stef obeyed instantly, looking up at him with red cheeks and poorly-concealed smugness. “You what?”

 

“I… I want to be inside you. When I do.” Vanyel felt his cheeks burning. The admission seemed to have taken Stef by surprise, but Van got the sense that he was pleased anyway. Stef slid up his body and hovered his lips over Vanyel’s. His lust was almost overpowering, but Van could still feel the heart-rending joy rolling beneath the surface.

 

“Have you dreamed about that too?”

 

Vanyel felt bound to answer truthfully; whether it was by Bardic magics or his newfound interest in dirty talk, he was too distracted to tell. “Y-yes. Yes, I have.”

 

Stef kissed his neck. “Tell me more. Tell me what you want.”

 

There it was again—words were, apparently, important here. They were also difficult for Vanyel. Perhaps that was why Stef kept asking for them— _that cheeky, sadistic, magnificent little ass_. Vanyel’s cheeks burned again. “I… It’s the same dream over and over. We’re actually like this. Sort of. I’ve opened you up already, and—” he swallowed hard “—and you’re riding me.”

 

“Where are my hands?” One trailed up Vanyel’s chest, circling a nipple. “On your thighs? Your chest?”

 

“On yourself.” The words tumbled out before Vanyel could stop them. “You’re… you’re pleasuring yourself.”

 

“I see.” Stef’s hand slid back to his own cock and began lazy pumping motions. “And where are _your_ hands?”

 

“On your hips, guiding you.” They found their way there, fingers digging just a little into the soft flesh. He could feel Stef’s ass pressing on his thighs. Vanyel bit back a moan—Stef was clever. His cock was aching in a mix of anticipation and desperate neglect.

 

“So, like this, yes? But I suppose we’re missing an important part…” Stef leaned forward, teasing Vanyel’s lips with his own. “You said you’d already opened me up.”

 

Vanyel did moan then. This whole thing—telling Stefen about his dreams, watching them come to life— was shockingly erotic. And the thought of actually getting to take his fingers to Stefen’s ass was enough to make his heart stop. “Get where I can reach you, then. And where I can see what I’m doing,” he added as an afterthought. _While we’re making fantasies into realities here…_

 

“And where would that be? Should I just turn around? That way I can reach you, too.” His tone was one of pretend naiveté. Vanyel almost said yes, but the thought of making himself wait even longer held a strange, vicious appeal.

 

“No. On your back.” Vanyel didn’t wait for Stef to move himself; instead he grabbed the Bard’s shoulders and rolled them over. Stef was pinned beneath him, knees up alongside Vanyel’s ribs—and then, as Van slid down, alongside his ears. The cock jutting up towards his chin was distracting enough that Van paused to give it a few passes with his lips before pulling back to get a better look at Stef. With his legs lifted, he was quite exposed, and the sight sent a thrill through Van. Time for a little trick he’d learned from the Tayledras. He slid two fingers into his mouth and concentrated for a moment—though Stef’s avid gaze didn’t escape his notice. The saliva thinned and became more slippery (and a little shimmery, though that was more a side effect). When Van pulled his fingers out, now with a smooth coating of lubricant, he felt a little shudder run through Stef’s body. Van leaned down, balancing over Stef as best he could, and looked into his eyes for a moment.

 

“Ready?” He asked, a little smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

 

“Yes. _Gods_ , yes. Go, please." Stef closed his eyes and lay back. Van gave him a kiss, and then sat back on his heels.

 

_Here we go. I’d better show some self-control or I’ll make a mess all over the sheets just doing this._ He drew his slicked fingers across Stef’s opening, watching in hazy delight as his cock twitched in response. Vanyel began massaging Stef’s perineum and the underside of his balls. The sighs began again, though they sounded almost exasperated.

 

“What are you _doing?_ "

 

Vanyel paused. “You don’t like it?” _I’ve yet to meet a man who didn’t. Surely this isn’t new to him._

 

Stef sat up and looked at him, desperation tightening the corners of his eyes. “Well of course I do, it’s always nice, but…”

 

“I’m just taking my time,” Vanyel said, resuming his gentle motions and bending down to nuzzle Stef’s cock. “I want to enjoy this. Now lie back and let me work.” Stef gave him a look of mingled appreciation and frustration, but did as he was bid.

 

“I suppose I did ask you what you’d dreamed about. It’s just so hard to be patient.” His tone was one of petulant acceptance. It was quite endearing.

 

_Oh, yeah. He definitely likes being teased._

 

But Vanyel didn’t make him wait too long—though, really, it was an exercise in patience on his part, too. At last, he pressed one finger against Stef’s entrance and made his way inside, ever so slowly. Stef whimpered and shifted his hips, pulling Vanyel’s finger further in.

 

“Greedy,” admonished Vanyel, twisting his finger and withdrawing it.

 

“Van, _please_.” Stefen’s voice was breathy with want. “ _Please_ , I want to feel you.”

 

Vanyel relented, and slipped his finger inside once more. He moved slowly, still, angling his finger around and around to stretch him gently before adding another finger. His cock was screaming, he was beyond ready, but Stef wasn’t quite there yet. _At least one more finger._ Vanyel wrapped his free hand around Stefen’s cock and began stroking, ignoring his own raging desires. Stef’s fingers crumpled the bed sheets, his lips forming a soft “o” as Vanyel’s fingers found their mark inside him.

 

“Right there, hmm?”

 

“Yes,” came the strangled reply. Vanyel smiled and began slipping his fingers in and out, aiming each time for that same spot. Stef moaned again as Vanyel added a third finger and kept moving. Vanyel’s dick was so hard, he was surprised he hadn’t blacked out. He hadn’t laid so much as a finger on it since he had ordered Stefen off. Even so, a few beads of moisture were trickling down it.

 

“Gods, Stef, I want you,” Vanyel groaned, pressing his lips against Stef’s thigh. Stef sat up so that their eyes were level.

 

“Have, me then. Have me. I’m all yours.” He threw himself forward and crushed Van’s lips with a needy kiss. Vanyel could taste the desperation, nearly as strong as his own. “Have me the way you dreamed it,” he breathed against Vanyel’s lips. “Show me you want me.”

 

Vanyel needed no further encouragement. He withdrew his fingers and, with a few swipes, transferred the Tayledras-enhanced saliva to his dick. Before Stef even had a chance to complain about the delay, Vanyel had rolled them over and positioned Stef over him. Their eyes locked as his fingers dug into Stef’s hips once more. One of Stef’s hands slipped down to help guide Vanyel inside, though they both paused just as the head of his cock brushed against Stefen’s opening. Vanyel could have sworn that the dust motes in the air stood still as he _finally_ slid inside. Stefen’s hands gripped his arms as he breathed deep and shifted his hips, adjusting to the sensations. It all left Vanyel speechless. He had, of course, felt the encompassing heat of another body before, the thrilling intimacy it could bring. But this was different, somehow. His mind was too hazy (and his cock too painfully hard) to think about the details, but he knew—really _knew_ —that this was so very, very right.

 

When Stefen finally began to move, Vanyel let out a soft cry. His hands began shifting, encouraging Stef to go faster.

 

“Waiting is agony, isn’t it?” Stef's question was laced with playful bitterness.

 

“Yes.”

 

Stef obeyed the unspoken request and picked up the pace a little—not as much as Vanyel would have liked, but he didn't want to ask for more than Stefen was physically able to give.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Vanyel asked, as Stef let his head loll back in ecstasy.

 

“What do you mean?” His eyes flickered open. Vanyel sat up and pulled him in for a heady kiss.

 

“Touch yourself,” he whispered, the words sending a palpable shiver down Stefen’s spine. He didn’t need to say it twice.

 

If Vanyel hadn’t been so practiced in self-discipline, the sight of Stefen pleasuring himself while riding his cock would have made him come almost instantly. This was quite possibly the most erotic thing Vanyel had ever experienced. A dream made flesh—warm, soft, intoxicating flesh. A captivating man utterly dedicated to Vanyel, stretching himself to accommodate Vanyel’s girth, and moaning with pleasure at it all. When it seemed that Stefen had found his rhythm, Vanyel let his fingers drift up to toy with Stefen’s nipples. He drew little circles around them, bestowing gentle flicks and pinches. Stef reacted as Vanyel expected, with sharp intakes of breath and fluttering eye contact. The pressure was slowly building in Vanyel’s abdomen, but he wanted more. Watching Stef pleasure himself was one of his fantasies— _one_ of them— and now he was emboldened enough to ask for more. He pulled the Bard down to his lips for a lingering kiss and he braced his legs against the mattress. That movement earned him a quizzical look.

 

“I need... to _move_ , Stef,” Vanyel said in between heavy breaths. “It’s been glorious torture but… but I need to move.” Stefen seemed to like that idea.

 

“Oh, is this another dream?” He murmured, kissing his way along Vanyel’s neck as casually as if they were discussing the weather. _How is he so calm right now? It’s not—_ “Tell me about those, too.” One of his hands, unseen, delivered a hard pinch to Vanyel’s nipple. He gasped.

 

“You _beast_.”

 

Stefen just chuckled and rolled it between thumb and forefinger. “You were saying?”

 

“I… I’ve had a few,” Vanyel began, ignoring the heat spreading across his cheeks. “Sometimes, we’re just like this, and I’m… I’m thrusting into you.” Vanyel felt his hips begin to move ever so slowly, as if of their own accord. Stefen let out a little moan and started to reach down to resume the pumping motions at his cock. Vanyel intercepted his hand. He Felt a wave of mingled frustration and delight, and took it as encouragement. “Sometimes you’re… you don’t get to touch yourself.” That felt cruel, given how long Stef had already waited. _No…_ “Sometimes I do it for you. And you just hang on to me.” He wrapped his hand around Stef’s cock and began imitating the slow, slightly twisting strokes he had watched Stef make just minutes ago.

 

“Who comes first?” Stef breathed in his ear. Vanyel could feel his lover’s body moving with each thrust, could see his shoulders and back rolling from the impact.

 

“You do. And…” the next words felt like a confession, and he had to force them out. “And I watch you. And watching you… that’s what makes me…” He stuttered to a halt. Stefen’s voice echoed in his ear, soft and airy yet demanding, once again:

 

“It makes you what? I want to hear you say it.”

 

Vanyel gathered his courage (or swallowed his shame—he wasn’t sure which was which, at this point). “It… It makes me come. Watchingyoumakesmecome.” The words tumbled out as his thrusts picked up speed. Stef gave a little gasp, then another, and another, as Vanyel’s cock hit home over and over. He swatted Vanyel’s hand away.

 

“You want to see me come? Yeah?” Stef said, no longer bothering to hide the tremor in his voice. “Then fucking _make me._ ” He pinched Vanyel’s nipple again, cruelly tight, and Vanyel felt the Bardic suggestion like a slap to the face. It stung, and he loved it, and he _could_ have ignored it—but he didn’t want to. This was a challenge, pure and simple. No hands, no mouth. Just his cock.

 

_Oh, I’ll make you, all right._ He began pounding into Stefen with a new will, trying to silence his own building pleasure as he aimed for that same spot over and over. Stef braced his hands against Vanyel’s chest. The change in angle gave Vanyel just what he needed. Stef’s eyes closed, his head tilted back, his fingernails dug into the tender skin beneath them. _Almost there…_

 

“Yes… Gods, yes… Van… _Oh_ —”

 

Stefen’s face contorted into the pleasure-pain of release as a trail of hot liquid fell across Vanyel’s stomach. He watched, mesmerized, as the Bard rode out his orgasm. It was more beautiful, more intoxicating than Vanyel had even dreamed. He, Vanyel Ashkevron, had brought this poised, elegant artist to the brink of wanton pleasure and then drop-kicked him over the ledge, and now there was semen trickling down his sides on to the bed, and Stefen’s face was one of perfect bliss, and he could feel the muscle contractions around his— Vanyel cried out and buried himself deep in Stef’s ass once, twice, three times, sending Stefen tumbling on to him. Vanyel wrapped his arms around Stefen and held him tight, pressing feverish kisses to his shoulder, his collarbones, his neck, as his whole body trembled.

 

Gradually, they both quieted. Vanyel noticed, in his post-coital haze, that the bond between them was alive and pulsing with energy, sending waves of pleasure from one man to the other and back again. He could have passed out then and there, still inside of Stefen, cum still slipping down his sides, arms still tight around the slender frame, but Stef gave a soft groan and rolled off of him.

 

“What’s…” Vanyel couldn’t quite formulate the question, but Stefen answered anyway from his undignified sprawl on the mattress.

 

“My legs are sore. Among other parts of me. Sorry, love.”

 

“That’s all right.” Vanyel lifted his arm. “Come here.”

 

“Already did,” Stefen said, with a tired chuckle, but ducked under his arm and laid his head on Vanyel’s chest all the same.

 

“So, did I convince you?” The words were lazily formed in Vanyel's mouth. Every part of him felt as if it were encased in lead.

 

“Convince me?” Echoed Stefen, his words muffled by Vanyel's shoulder.

 

“Yeah, that I...” Now that the hypnotic heat of their encounter had passed, Van found his sense of shame returning. He swallowed. “That I... want you. Love you. All of that.”

 

Stefen was silent for a moment, his long fingers tracing idle patterns on Vanyel's stomach. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but clear, and Van could feel him smiling. “Yes, I dare say you have. I think I'll need reminding in the future, though.”

 

“I think I can manage that. But for now... Goodnight, Stefen.” Vanyel pressed a kiss to the top of his head. All the endearments he could never bring himself to say queued up and rolled down their bond, conveying their meaning without words.

 

“Goodnight.” Stef gave a soft sigh, wriggled a little, settling himself more comfortably in the crook of Van’s arm. Vanyel closed his eyes and drank in the warmth, joy, and love that radiated from Stefen. Though Van was sticky and exhausted, some long-restless part of his soul was finally at peace, curled up contentedly like the red-haired bard beside him. He drifted off to sleep in moments. _Whatever I did to deserve this, I'll never know._


End file.
